Page 116 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
Her shoulders shake and I can tell she’s laughing, but I don’t have a chance to press her further because the doors open with a dramatic flourish and the music begins.
I walk down the aisle staying three paces behind Sera, as I’ve been instructed, but the joyful anticipation filling the room is distracting. The air is thick with the scent of roses and Italian leather. My heart pounds in my chest as I place one foot in front of the other.
Allegra stands alone on the front row of seats and I can see her tears falling from all the way down the aisle. My gaze pans to the right and takes in Cristiano. He looks taller and broader, like he’s about to burst with pride. And he hasn’t evenseenher yet.
The music drifts through my ears, lifting me until I feel like I’m floating. Bronze eyes are the only things keeping me grounded. I let myself be drawn to them, hooking my gaze on Benito as I reach the end of the aisle and stand beside Sera.
The guests, sharply dressed in black tuxedos andevening gowns, are all staring toward the back of the room.
The music swells—deep and haunting. And then, with her arm threaded through Papa’s, she enters.
I can’t breathe.
Her dress—an ethereal gown that skims over her curves and falls to the floor in a delicate train of sequined satin—glides across the floor. Her bleached hair is rebelliously loose, curled enough to kiss her shoulders, a few soft strands framing her face.
My sister, the bravest of all of us, the one who’d throw herself into icy waters from dramatic clifftops, the one who buried the trauma of seeing our mother killed and kept it from us all, the one who fearlessly fell for the most dangerous man in New York, is walking down the aisle towardhim—Cristiano. The Di Santo don, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, and the man who killed his own flesh and blood to protect our family.
I glance sideways to capture his reaction. He’s still standing tall and impossibly composed. But there’s something in his eyes I don’t recall seeing before. I swear his gaze softens just for her, just for a split second, as she approaches. His eyes don’t stray as she glides toward him.
I lift my gaze momentarily to the ceiling in a bid to stop the tears from rolling down my freshly powdered cheeks. When I lower it again, Trilby is kissing Papa on the cheek, then she takes Cristiano’s hand. I watch his fingers curl possessively around hers, and her lips curve into a softly delirious smile. My cheeks heat from thestrain of holding in a happy sob and the sensation of Benito’s burning stare.
My gaze flickers beyond the couple to the man whose eyes haven’t left my face once. I feel his touch on my skin, his lips on my throat, and my heart skips a beat.
The guests are asked to sit, and the ceremony begins. Words pass through my ears, unheard, as I focus on the expressions on Trilby and Cristiano’s faces. I’ve seen my sister and her fiancé content before, but nothing like this. My chest blooms with happiness for them both.
Halfway through the sermon, a bird flies through an open window and rests on one of the beams overhead.
“Look at that,” Sera whispers in my ear. “It’s a barn swallow. Isn’t it beautiful?”
I nod in agreement. “Do you think it’s an omen?”
Knowing how spiritual my sister is, I expect her to agree. When she doesn’t reply straight away, I tear my gaze from Trilby, Cristiano and the bird to focus on her.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I think it’s Mama.”
Right at that moment, Trilby gasps and I turn back to see the bird has flown to the front of the room. It is perched on a table just behind the priest, and it’swatchingher.
I feel Sera’s soft, warm hand rest on mine while tears roll down my cheeks. I sense Benito’s gaze narrow on me, but I can’t take my eyes off the bird. It sits there until the end of the sermon, only flying to a window sill when it’s time to exchange vows.
The priest’s voice cuts through my tears. “Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”
He nods to Cristiano.
“I, Cristiano, take you, Trilby, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
I hold my breath and watch Trilby’s lips move as she repeats the words.
My hands tremble as I watch the exchange of rings, and I half-listen to the priest’s blessing.
When they are pronounced man and wife and Cristiano is invited to kiss his bride, the room erupts. After sitting through uncharacteristic calm and silence, I’m now reminded that I am actually sitting in a room full of Italians. Whoops and hollers rise up from the chairs and Cristiano presses his lips to Trilby’s. A beautiful pink blush creeps up her cheeks and I clap until my hands burn.
When they pull apart, they stare at one another, the roomful of guests falling away to insignificance. My eyes drift to the man behind them and my heart warms. Benito blinks at me slowly, both hands resting in his pockets, then he smiles.
Contessa
The topic of watching Trilby walk down the aisle, looking more radiant than a buttercup in full bloom, will never get old. Sera, Allegra, Bambi and I have talked of nothing else, through the champagne and canapés, through photos, and through dinner. And now the lights have dimmed and the band has started to play, we still can’t stop marveling at how utterly beautiful she looks and how smitten Cristiano is.
Allegra and Bambi have gone to find Papa, leaving me and Sera to sip our wine and reminisce all over again. When Sera stops mid-sentence, her gaze arrested by something—or someone—behind me, I turn around and my heart expands. Benito is standing with one arm behind his back and the other outstretched toward me. “May I have a dance?”
